


Hammer To Fall

by Morpheus626



Series: The Things Roger Kept [4]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26069626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: Inspired by a certain set of pictures posted to the DL discord server today (link to the pictures in the notes of this fic!)A.K.A: Roger and a hammer, what could possibly go wrong?This became a bit more than just that, but the hammer is what sets it all off, lol. Also didn’t intend for it to join The Things Roger Kept series, but that’s where it ended up by the time I was done!And as for the title...I mean, it was right there. Can you blame me, what else was I going to call this?
Series: The Things Roger Kept [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1840690
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	Hammer To Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Link to the photos I mentioned, to give the needed context for this fic!: https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/526143520134922250/747139252244054026/image0.png?width=547&height=676

“Can I keep this?” 

“He’s kidding,” Brian said. “He doesn’t need to keep it.” 

“I absolutely need to keep it,” Roger scoffed. “I can use it on something! Can you imagine the sound...” 

“I can imagine something happening,” Brian said. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” 

“Roger being the one to open this thing, or him keeping that?” Freddie asked, a good few steps away from the barrel and Roger with the hammer.

“Yes,” Brian replied. 

“You can keep it, if you would like, Mr. Taylor. We’re honored!” their hosts grinned, talking over each other in assurances that he could have it. 

Roger stuck out his tongue at Brian. “See? At least some people here have common sense.” 

“In letting you keep that?” Brian muttered. “That’s not common sense.” 

“Are we opening this, or not?” John asked. 

“Oh, we are,” Roger grinned, and Freddie took another step away. 

“Someone else take that, now,” Brian said. “Quickly, please!” 

But it was too late, and with the most joyful yelp, Roger smashed the barrel open. 

The spray of sake only hit him, John, and Brian, but everyone jumped at it.

Brian shook his curls like a dog after being caught in the rain. “Do you all see what I meant now? Why I said to take it away from him?” 

“Hush,” Roger said, and handed him one of the cups, now full of sake. “I’m keeping it. And is there another one of these you need opened, by chance? I may have found a side career.” 

\---

“Roger, no,” Brian sighed. 

They had been home for a few weeks, and had only now gotten together for an informal jam session/rehearsal. Sure enough, the hammer from the sake barrel had not only made its way home with Roger, but to the studio as well. 

“I think you mean, ‘Roger, yes,’“ Roger said as he tossed it from hand to hand. “What do you think this’ll sound best with?” 

“A shelf, where it can sit as a nice souvenir,” Brian replied. 

“Could try a timpani,” John suggested.

“You are not helping,” Brian sighed, exasperated. 

“Wasn’t trying to help,” John said. “I want to see what happens when he uses it.” 

“Freddie!” Roger crowed as Freddie walked in, a cup of tea in his hand. “You have the final vote: do I start with this on a timpani, or something else?” 

Freddie sipped at his tea. “Roger. You know I love you, right?” 

Roger nodded. 

“And I like to support you, yes?” 

Roger nodded again, a bit more hesitantly.

“That said,” Freddie sighed. “That was meant to open a barrel, which is...hardier than most drums, I would guess. I mean, I’m not an expert on drums or barrels, but-” 

“No, not you too,” Roger interrupted with a dramatic wail. “Oh, he’s gotten to you. The infection of Brian’s Stupid Sensibility and Boring...ness!” 

Freddie tried and failed to bite back a giggle, ignoring the glare from Brian. 

“Well, I’m not going to let you all hold me back,” Roger said. “When I have a number one single using this thing on my drums, don’t you cry to me that I have to tell anyone who asks about it how none of you supported me.”

“I’m neutral,” John protested. “I can think this is a stupid idea and support it at the same time!” 

“You aren’t going to the piano?” Brian asked Freddie as he settled into an open chair near him. 

“No, I’m going to watch the show first, and finish my tea,” Freddie replied. “Give it your all, Rog. However it goes down, we’re here for you.” 

“Thank you,” Roger nodded. “Finally, some actual common sense from you! You had me scared for a moment.” 

They watched as he dragged a tom close to him, and gently tapped at it with the hammer. The sound wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t nearly loud enough. 

“Oh dear,” Brian muttered under his breath, wincing as Roger drew his arm back high, and brought the hammer down with a thunderous noise. 

Roger frowned at the broken tom. “Oh.” 

“This is what I was afraid of,” Freddie admitted. “Maybe now we could-” 

“Toms are too delicate for this,” Roger interrupted. “Bass won’t do either.” 

Brian dropped his head to his hands as he leaned forward on his knees, his chair creaking as he moved. 

“Roger,” Freddie tried again. “You’re a smart man. And I know that means you like experimentation. However, I think this might be a time where more experimentation is not better, and you know I don’t like saying that, but for the sake of the instruments-” 

“Timpani!” Roger interrupted with a grin. “That’ll be the one.” 

“I told you it would need to be the timpani,” John said. 

“I’ll give you a credit on the song for your help,” Roger said. “A special one, ‘to John, for knowing which drum was best.’“ 

John nodded. “That’ll do.” 

“John!” Brian shouted. “Stop helping!” 

“I already told you this isn’t technically helping, because I still think this is stupid!” 

“Shouting isn’t helping either,” Freddie said gently. 

“Then what should I do?” Brian scoffed. 

“Sometimes you just have to let things happen,” Freddie replied, and rubbed at Brian’s back, his mug of tea forgotten and set on a nearby equipment case. “We’ll be fine, and this will be over in a moment.” 

Roger looked utterly hurt at that.

“Oh, Rog. Please don’t give me that look, but you aren’t listening to reason,” Freddie said desperately. “Please leave the timpani be, darling. We can find some other way to use the hammer in a song, I’m sure. Maybe hitting something sturdier with it, instead of a drum of any kind.” 

But Roger continued dragging one of the timpani away from its siblings, and raised the hammer again.

“Why don’t you go get us some lunch,” Freddie said to Brian as he covered his ears with his hands. “You and John. I’ll take care of Roger.” 

“Burn the hammer,” Brian whispered. 

“I’m not going to do that,” Freddie said. “And I don’t think that’s necessary. Go get us some food, go on.” 

Brian nearly ran out of the room. 

“Go on, John,” Freddie said, and nodded for John to follow him. 

“But-” 

“Please,” Freddie said, edging towards a gentle beg. “He’s upset, and he’ll end up forgetting something while he’s out as a result. I’m hungry, and I’d rather he not forget to bring enough food. You’re my back-up on this.” 

John rolled his eyes, but nodded and stood to run after Brian. “Fair enough. Good luck with this one.” 

Roger seemed to be stuck in his aiming, and in looking at him one could almost see the calculations in his eyes. 

“Before you do that,” Freddie said, letting his hands off his ears as the horrible noise no longer seemed imminent. “Can we go over what you’re about to do?” 

“Create a new, fantastic sound,” Roger said, but his arm holding the hammer twitched. 

“Possibly,” Freddie agreed. “Or, and stay with me here, you might be about to break a very expensive timpani.” 

“That...is also possible,” Roger admitted. “This is a bad idea, isn’t it?” 

“I’m so sorry,” Freddie said, and his honesty was evident in his tone. “I wish I could say otherwise, Rog.” 

Roger let the hammer down, and gently set it on top of the timpani. “I really do think it could be used to create something cool though.” 

“And I don’t disagree,” Freddie said, getting up to join him at the drum, resting an arm across Roger’s shoulders. “But I think we need to get...more experimental.” 

“...John has that big sheet metal he hasn’t used yet,” Roger mused. 

“He does,” Freddie said. “After lunch, we could send him out to get it.” 

“I could just catch up to him now and help him get it,” Roger said, and picked up the hammer before darting for the door. 

“Yeah,” Freddie agreed, then gasped. “Wait, no, bring the hammer back! Fucking hell, running down the sidewalk, waving that...” 

He charged out after Roger, the door slamming shut behind him. 

As if to add insult to injury, the shaking of the slamming door rattled his tea cup enough to bring it crashing off the edge of the equipment case to the floor. 

Along with their keys to the studio.

\---

“Roger!” Freddie shouted, out of breath, platforms clacking on the sidewalk. “Oh these are fucking useless for this. Slow the fuck down!” 

Roger turned, and gave him a puzzled look. The passersby on the sidewalk gave them both a wide berth, eyes on the hammer in Roger’s hand. 

“What are you doing, Fred? I was going to be right back, after I found John.” 

“I know,” Freddie said. “But look at how you look right now.” 

Roger paused, looked to the hammer in his hand, then to everyone walking widely around them. “Ah.” 

“Yeah,” Freddie said. “Come on back to the studio, and put that back, at least. Then we can come back out and find them together, how about that?” 

Roger nodded, and they started back to the studio. 

“Lucky I didn’t get too far,” Roger laughed as they approached the front door. “Can you imagine what people must have been thinking?” 

“That you were on your way to commit a very particular murder?” 

“Huh. That sounds about right,” Roger said, and gave the door a yank.

It didn’t open.

“Freddie.” 

“Yes?” 

“You didn’t happen to lock the door when you came to the studio, did you?” 

Freddie nodded. “So no one could disturb us unless they had a key to get in.” 

“Okay. But did you grab our keys before you ran out to get me?” 

Freddie patted down his jacket pockets, and the color drained from his face. 

“This is fine,” Roger said, and gave the door another hard yank. “We can still get in.” 

“I’ll have to call the owner and let him know,” Freddie said miserably. “That seems fitting for today though, doesn’t it? What else can go wrong?” 

Roger stopped his fighting with the unbudging door, and stared at the hammer. “I’ve had an idea.” 

“...we already do have to pay for the tom,” Freddie sighed. “Go for it.”

It took a good few hits, but the door swung open after Roger battered it with the hammer. The doorknob was mangled, and the lock useless now. 

But they were in. 

“Told you lot that keeping this was a good idea,” Roger said as he strode triumphantly inside. “Can’t deny it now, can you?” 

“I suppose I can’t,” Freddie said. “But should we let it rest now, maybe? I’ve got some lyrics I’d like you to look over anyway, and we’ve got some time yet until Brian and John get back I’d gather...” 

It wasn’t an intensive pouring over the lyrics, but even so, they were deeply in the moment when Brian and John walked back up to the studio.

“What the fuck?!” 

Brian’s shout echoed into the studio, and they both winced. 

“We share equal blame in this,” Roger said. “He can’t be mad at both of us.”

“I think he can,” Freddie said. “But I admire your optimism all the same.” 

John was the only one who came in though, handing out the takeaway silently. 

“Is he okay?” Roger asked. 

“Ah,” John replied. “He is on the ground outside, trying to figure out if we can fix the door before anyone notices how broken it is.” 

“He knows that isn’t possible, right?” Freddie asked. “We’ll simply have to pay for it to be repaired.” 

“I think he does, but I don’t think he’s ready to accept that knowledge yet,” John sighed, and sat down with his food. “You going out to bring him down?” 

“It’s partially my fault, so yes,” Freddie murmured. “Give me his food. I’ll take mine and his with me. Maybe I can lead him back in with it.” 

“Can always take the hammer too!” Roger said. “Kidding.” 

Freddie chuckled and shook his head. “We’ll leave that as Plan B. And only because I think he would go after it to destroy it if I tossed it in here, and at least then he’d be inside.” 

As it would turn out, an apology and food were all it took to get Brian back inside, along with a promise that the sheet metal of John’s would be the only thing the hammer would be used on next. 

Years later, it had been fully retired, and rested on a shelf in Roger’s house. The shelf was another souvenir from Japan, bought on a later tour for him by Brian, who was still insistent that his original suggestion of keeping the hammer at home on a nice shelf had been the best one. 

And perhaps, now, he was right. 


End file.
